


Mirrors

by Peredur



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempts at Medical Accuracy, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes WENT to Therapy, Comic Book Science, De-Serumed Steve Rogers, Disabled Character, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Jewish Bucky Barnes, Jewish Steve Rogers, M/M, Mental Health Issues, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, So Many Disabled Characters, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve needs therapy, Stucky Bingo 2020, Trauma, internalised disablism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25920964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peredur/pseuds/Peredur
Summary: Steve doesn't seem at peace with his new body, Bucky doesn't know how to help him. Before he can figure out how to help, Steve gets accidentally de-serumed and Bucky is the only one who knows how to help.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 18
Kudos: 140
Collections: Stucky Bingo 2020





	1. Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Mirrors  
> Creator(s): Peredur  
> Card number: 049  
> Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25920964  
> Square filled: A2 Dysmorphia  
> Rating: Mature  
> Archive warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Internalised Disablism  
> Major tags: Deserumed Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, So Many Disabled Characters, Steve Rogers Needs A Hug  
> Summary: Steve doesn't seem at peace with his new body, Bucky doesn't know how to help him. Before he can figure out how to help, Steve gets accidentally de-serumed and Bucky is the only one who knows how to help.  
> Word count: 12274

He wondered how he missed it. As a spy, shouldn’t he have seen what was wrong with Steve’s floor, Steve’s room, Steve’s life? He missed it for months after he moved in, noticing only that one time that Steve’s bathroom sink was broken and Bucky’d suggested he use the one off the guest room instead.  
Steve hadn’t pulled the lock, he was only going to wash his hands and it wasn’t like Bucky hadn’t followed Steve into bathrooms a hundred times before… He’d followed silently, hoping to surprise Steve with an unexpected squeeze of his ass but he stopped still with his hand halfway there.  
Steve had put a towel over the mirror… and another one over the shaving mirror.  
“What are you doing with my towels Steve?” he asked.  
“Nothing Buck,” Steve answered quickly, his face turning slightly red, “Don’t want to crack your mirrors from seeing my dumb face.” He laughed but it didn’t sound right. Rogers’ public performance laugh, Bucky realised, not his real one.

Bucky made himself shrug and pretend like he believed Steve was making a silly joke. Then as soon as Steve went out (to the gym, ugh) he did some thorough recon of Steve’s floor. Technically it was their floor, they both lived there but Steve was the one it was built for, the one who decorated it to his own liking, the one who’d chosen the fixtures and decor.

Steve’s bedroom had no mirrors. His ensuite bathroom? No mirrors. Literally every room in the whole damn floor except the bathroom off the guest room which was Bucky’s room (not that he slept in “his” bedroom any more). That bathroom contained the only mirrors and now he was thinking of it, Bucky had bought both of them himself.

Musing on why someone as gorgeous as Steve would deliberately choose to have zero opportunities to look at themself, Bucky felt an urge to look at the photos and drawings displayed on the walls. There were pictures of him, pictures of Nat, of Bruce, Clint and Tony. Photos of Peggy, a triptych of photos of Sam in flight. There were photos of Steve and him as boys, as teens and a few drawings of them holding hands and kissing from when photographs that candid were too dangerous to take.

There were NO pictures of Steve after he got the serum. Every image with Steve in it was of the tiny mouthy punk he’d been before the war. There were new modern photos of Bucky with long hair and a metal arm but no pictures of Steve’s taller, stronger new body. Not one.

It all added up to something - Steve didn’t like being big. He coped with it, sure, but he clearly didn’t want to be reminded of it in his own home. Bucky had absolutely no idea how to help.

He might not know how to help but he could relate. For weeks he’d debated with himself back and forth about getting rid of his metal arm. He’d felt sick to look at it sometimes as memories of what he’d done with it had slowly bled back into his brain. Could he live with seeing it every day? The arm that had killed so many people, that had almost killed Natasha and Sam and Steve? He’d thought it might be better not to have an arm at all, he’d thought to cover it up, to paint it over, to get a hammer and just smash it to pieces…  
But he hadn’t done any of that, he’d talked to his friends, he’d sat quietly in meetings at the VA, he’d discussed functional design adjustments with Stark. And he’d wandered around New York in shorts and a tank top and discovered that the only people who gave a damn about his arm were people who liked his arm and to everyone else he was just another guy. The civilians weren’t scared or sickened or saddened by his metal arm so eventually he found that he wasn't either.

But Steve. Steve might feel like that about his whole damn body, Bucky guessed. At least the arm theoretically could be removed. At least keeping his arm attached felt like a choice, a decision he could make for himself. Steve’s transformation might have been willing and consensual and wanted but… it was also pretty much irreversible as far as Bucky could see.

He didn’t say anything about it to Steve when he returned from the gym. Instead, he hustled Steve into a shared shower. He might not be able to talk Steve into feeling good about his body but he could definitely give him a hands-on demonstration of how to use that body for something other than punching bad guys.  
“What’s the special occasion, Buck?” Steve managed to say between gasps as Bucky sank to his knees before him, one hand still on Steve’s cock and the other resting on his butt.  
“No occasion, Stevie you jerk,” Bucky said affectionately, “I love you, aint that occasion enough?”  
Steve started to say “I love you too” but was cut off when Bucky got his mouth around his cock.

Bucky had been pondering on how to ask Steve things like “Do you regret becoming strong and tall and healthy in a risky procedure that led to you being in the right place to save my life twice?” for several weeks when it happened.


	2. Chapter 2

“Cap’s down!” Tony yelled through the comms, “The AIM guy sprayed him with some weird liquid and he’s out cold.”

“On it,” said Natasha, running over to Steve while Hawkeye neatly shot each remaining AIM goon from somewhere above her. Then, “Fuck. Someone better get Barnes over here ASAP”

Bucky ran towards the last place he remembered hearing Steve mention on the comm (he wasn’t Avenging but what sort of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t hang out nearby and listen in on Steve’s missions?). Part way there, Iron Man came down in front of him and offered to fly him over to Steve.

“You didn’t crack wise about picking me up,” he said to Tony, “This is serious.” 

It wasn’t a question, he’d known Tony to make jokes while being shot at, if Tony wasn’t joking then things were bad.

“He’s conscious,” said Widow over the comms. In Russian, she added quietly “We’ll get him back James, okay?”

Bucky started to ask her what the fuck that even meant but he was cut off by a familiar voice saying, “Widow, English only on the comms.” It was Steve’s voice and he was wheezing and gasping between the words. “I’m fine Buck,” he was saying, “It’s okay, I’m…”  
Bucky literally jumped down from Iron Man’s arms the second he could see Steve. He landed like a cat and stalked over to Steve, rage propelling him forward.  
“Rogers you asshole, you are absolutely NOT fine and this is not okay and you are… Argh, you are OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW BETTER than to lie to me about your health!”

He stood over the tiny, familiar form of Steven Grant Rogers circa 1945, five foot four ninety-five pounds and having a fucking asthma attack. He mentally filed away the thought “When did I turn into Steve’s Ma?” for later as he pulled the stolen inhaler out of one of his many pockets. He knelt down in front of Steve and touched his shoulder reassuringly.

“Breathe out hard, then stick this bit in your mouth and breathe in as deep as you can,” he said to Steve while shaking the inhaler for him. “Put the cap back on, wait 60 seconds then shake it and take it again. If you’re still gasping after a few of those, we go to medical. Okay?”

As soon as he saw Steve nod, he stood back up and started giving orders. 

“I need some small men’s clothes, some blankets, a medic and an exit route. Find me somewhere private to take him where he can get some hot drinks and get changed into clothes that don’t drown him.”

Steve’s breathing levelled out and Steve tried to stand up, because of course he did. Bucky glared at him fondly, fully aware that Steve was going to try to walk and equally aware that he was going to have to carry the guy no matter how near they were to the improvised assembly point - he could see that Steve was dizzy and uncoordinated. He reached out instinctively and grabbed Steve’s arm when he managed to trip over his own foot. He quietly rearranged Steve so he was standing, Bucky’s arm slung over his left shoulder and his hand grasping Steve under his right armpit. Steve leaned into him and Bucky took most of Steve’s weight. It was a familiar pose, born of many years of Steve stubbornly insisting on standing and walking instead of using his cane, being pushed in his wheelchair or being carried. Bucky hadn’t ever really understood Steve’s fixation with standing and walking “unaided” but he’d willingly devised this way to keep Steve’s pride intact, even if some days if anyone had looked hard they'd have seen that Steve’s feet weren’t touching the ground.

Maria Hill had somehow commandeered an entire Starbucks for them - up to and including finding some junior agents with barista experience to staff it. Bucky hauled Steve in and was pointed towards the accessible bathroom, one of Coulson’s agents handed him a bag of mens’ small and extra-small clothing for Steve. They’d even removed the packaging and (using some yet to be released Stark tech, no doubt) laundered, dried and refolded everything. Bucky aimed Steve at the door to the accessible bathroom, pushed the bag of clothes into his arms and preemptively glared at him. “Rogers, if I think you need help in there, I WILL come in after you so don’t even think about locking the door after yourself. I don’t want the nice Starbucks people havin’ to bill us for a new door cos you locked it and I had to break in after you.”

Steve yelled back that Bucky was a jerk but he didn’t lock the door and did manage to get himself re-dressed without assistance so that was something.

Bucky stood in front of the door until Steve was ready then walked him over to a chair and told him to sit down and stay fucking there. “Don’t make me get Romanova to tie you to the chair Steve! Because I will if I think it’s necessary,” he said to a tired but fidgety Steve before handing Steve the inhaler and then walking over to the counter. “Tea for him, soy milk and lots of sugar,” he said to the junior agents playing barista, “Not the largest size, I’m not sure if he’d be able to hold the cup so.. Start small and just keep ‘em coming? Plus some crisps and whichever vegan meal and sweets have the most calories in ‘em. I’ll have a caramel latte, largest size with whipped cream and a vegetarian panini, throw in a few espresso shots for the table to cover Romanova and Barton and I’ll let everyone else sort their own stuff out.  
Sorry to be so vague and all but I wanna get back to Stevie before he finds some more trouble to dive head first into.”

He turned and was gratified to see that for once in his damn life Steve had done as he was told. He was not surprised to see Romanova, Barton and Wilson had taken seats at Steve’s table. He was, however, annoyed to see that Stark had already made a mess, having both finished his coffee and started to make… something mechanical out of the plastic cutlery and cardboard drink cups left over from his order.

Bucky took his seat and the table and sighed heavily. “Stark, if you blow up this Starbucks with whatever you’re making there, I will personally requisition every coffee machine in the tower and donate them all to worthy causes in your name and you will have to build yourself a new espresso machine _with no coffee to help you._ ”

Tony’s face paled and he started fidgeting with his cake instead, muttering something about that being uncalled for and that the thing was unlikely to blow up and why did Barnes spoil all his fun.

An agent / barista brought over Bucky’s order and Bucky neatly parcelled it out. “Steve? Drink some tea and eat the food, okay pal?”

“Tea, Buck? Really?” Steve moped, “You only make me tea when I’m sick and I’m fine, Bucky, I’m okay.”

“Rogers,” Bucky said affectionately, “Shut up and drink your damn tea. I know what I’m doing.”

Tony laughs. “I’m glad someone knows what they’re doing! Anyone know what the fuck happened to Steve? I mean, I’m enjoying the novelty of being taller than him but honestly? This is not a situation where I had a contingency plan ready for and I have no idea what we're supposed to do now."


	3. Chapter 3

"Let’s try starting on what we DO know,” said Widow as she delicately sipped her espresso. “Steve is… Smaller. Let’s start there.”

“That’s one way to put it,” muttered Steve.

“Steve’s… how he used to be,” Bucky said carefully, “Before the serum. He looks a little older but this is what he was like before the war.”

“So small and half-dead?” Tony asked because he had no sense of tact, decorum or subtlety.

Bucky inhaled and exhaled slowly then said, “No. Smaller and disabled. He wasn’t as dying as your history books make out then and he’s perfectly alive right now.”

“I’m right here!” Steve grumbled.

“Babe, you gotta eat,” Bucky told Steve softly, “I know you’re dizzy and nauseous and upset but seriously just get some food and fluids into you, okay?”

They sat drinking and eating in silence for a few minutes. Bucky glancing at Steve regularly to check he was still making progress on his meal. When the first cup of Steve’s tea was empty, Bucky gestured to the barista/agents to bring another.

“Sooo…” said Barton in a suspiciously bright tone, “Serum made Steve bigger, now he’s smaller… Is _everything_ smaller now Steve?” He cocked his eyebrow suggestively. “Y’know, just pure scientific interest here. Gotta check these things, right?”

Romanova rolled her eyes at Barton’s antics. Tony badly attempted to pretend not to be listening. Steve blushed.

Bucky looked Barton direct in the eye and said, “Nah, Stevie’s never had size issues in that department. Honestly, the serum just grew everything else into proportion with his dick.” He paused to watch Clint react and was gratified to see his expression change as he worked it out.

“How would you know what size it was befo… No, wait I do not want to ask that,” Clint said.

“Personal, hands-on experience,” Bucky replied. He grinned and added, “Extensive, through hands-on experience both before and after Captain Bad-Decisions here got himself souped up.”

“Buck!” Steve gasped, “You didn’t have to answer that! Or you could’ve at least said it was from all those times you bathed me and dressed me!”

“Eh,” Bucky replied, “It’s not like less than half o’ those times were cus I’d tired you out from sex Steve”

Tony choked on his drink. Bucky took this as a personal achievement - Stark never did seem to consider that sex (yes, even queer sex!) had in fact existed in the 1930s. One day, once super-soldier strength alcohol is available, Bucky might even mention that one time they ran into Howard and some of his friends in that gay basement bar in London.

“So,” said Natasha loudly, as if trying hard to act like the last few minutes’ hilarity had not occurred, “Let’s work on the assumption that Steve’s lost his super-serum. We need to work out if he’s been affected in any other ways and we need to work out how to fix this.” She paused and took in Bucky’s glare and Steve’s misery. “We need to plan our next move, whether or not this is something that can be reversed.”

“I’ve got a plan,” Bucky said quietly while stroking Steve’s hair, “Once Steve’s eaten a bit more, we’re going to need a doctor. Is Banner around? Stark, I’m going to want to take Steve to your medbay in the Tower, can you get us some doctors on standby who can be trusted to stay quiet about this?  
Hill, how’s media containment going? I don’t want people knowing Steve’s out of action until we know what we’re dealin’ with and how we want to handle any press.”

The others quickly established that Bruce is back at the Tower, both the press and civilians are being kept out of reach and Stark has a bunch of doctors with very thorough NDAs on 24/7 standby.

  
Bucky set himself to coordinating their exit plan - which mostly involves getting Iron Man, Hawkeye and Black Widow to exit as flashily and publicly as possible so no one will notice the ambulance stopping by the back entrance to the Starbucks and taking Steve, Bucky and Hill away.

Steve, who had been slowly drinking his tea and eating his flapjack, then piped up. “Buck? I’m confused.”

“What about babe?”

“Where the hell did you get an asthma inhaler?” At Steve’s question everyone else stopped organising doctors and media to stare at Bucky.

“Erm,” he said eloquently, running his hand through his hair and looking intently down at his unfinished coffee. “Well, short answer is my pocket, I guess? And none of you is gonna let me leave it at that, are you.” He sighed, drained his coffee and stood up before adding, “I got it from a pharmacy. I didn’t steal it Steve.”

“But, but you don’t have asthma Bucky, why would you even…” Steve began.

“Because getting you asthma meds is so ingrained that even HYDRA couldn’t stop me doing it Steve.

I’ve bought, bartered or stolen asthma medication and fought off anyone trying to take it from me every damn time I’ve been unfrozen longer than a day. Turns out I didn’t need to remember your name or why you were important to remember to get your meds Stevie.” He smiled weakly, “That one I bought some time after I pulled you out of the river but before I let you find me. I wasn’t sure of much but I remembered looking after you when your breathing got bad.”

"Oh Bucky," Steve said wetly, "Sweetheart, that's so.. Oh Buck."

Before Steve could start crying - or hitting things, those being his primary coping mechanisms for hearing about Bucky's Winter Soldier memories - Bucky told Stark to go.

"Iron Man, you're up," he said, "Go do some outrageous flying, maybe get yourself in trouble by landing on a national monument or something. See you at home." He carefully folded up Steve's suit and shield in some of the blankets and packed them into a box large enough fished out of the recycling area of the Starbucks' back room.

  
"Widow, call for your flashest car then take Clint outside and give the tabloids a reason to take your picture. We need a distraction."

Romanova grinned at him. It's a terrifying sight and Bucky thanked God that he isn't Barton.  
"Clint dear, remind me," she asked, "Is our supposed on/off relationship currently on or off?"

"According to the magazines, we're talking marriage," Clint replied, "So how many languages do you want to have this loud argument in? Three?"

Bucky wished he could stay to watch them work - their public relationship drama was always a masterpiece of misdirection - but getting Steve home was more pressing. He hoped Clint and Natasha managed to record this one.  
"Come on babe," he said to Steve once their ambulance arrived. He carried the box of Steve's things in one arm and guided a blanket covered Steve to the back door with his other arm, "I love you Steve. It's going to be okay."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a lot of research! Any errors in medical science are entirely mine. Steve's illnesses are canon - they're listed on his 4F forms and the display about his transformation in the Smithsonian in the movies.

The first doctor they saw was Bruce. Considering that Steve's interactions with medical professionals have been almost exclusively either field medics, people trying to work out how his healing factor works and starstruck nurses at the blood bank since he was found his way into the war and weren't exactly stress-free or painless before that, Bucky figured Steve would be most comfortable starting with one he already knew and trusted. 

"I'm going to get this part done first," Bruce said when Steve started to undress (damn military doctors making men strip for no reason, Steve must not realise that's not the case now). Bruce lays out a series of syringes. "I'm going to need a few vials of your blood, Steve. After that, I got every vaccination you've missed. If you just sit down here and I'll get to finding a vein." 

"He used to faint during blood tests," Bucky said, "You're probably going to need him to lie down just in case." 

"Of course," Bruce said, "Steve, let's get you on the couch instead." 

Steve doesn't faint and he does fine with all the vaccinations - even when Bucky made sure Bruce had included "the jabs they give to queers these days, for venereal diseases". Bruce had included those, pneumonia, influenza and several tropical diseases "for if you're cleared for missions before we work out how to change you back." 

Bucky noticed the careful phrasing - before "we work out how to" - and raised one eyebrow at Bruce who meets his gaze briefly. Bruce had apparently noticed Steve's difficulties too, Bucky mused. OH, fuck, the whole tiny Bruce, enormous Hulk thing might give Bruce a window into what it might be like to be Steve. 

Bruce took Steve's height, weight, blood pressure. Checked his eyes, ears looked into his mouth. Listened to his chest. Guided him through some exercises to check his range of movement and flexibility.   
"I know that Tony usually has JARVIS do most of this," Bruce said to a quiet and cooperative Steve, "But, with respect, JARVIS is not a doctor." 

"Indeed I am not," JARVIS said, "Despite my many attempts to convince Sir that scanning a great number of medical text books is far from the required standards to practice medicine and my repeated requests that he make use of the medical facilities contained within the building, he is quite insistent on using me as his doctor."

Steve's face changed almost instantly from what Bucky would describe as "Steven G Rogers' patented Frown of Suffering" to his "Captain America, Leader of The Avengers" face as he jutted his chin forwards and barked out "Tony!" in a clipped efficient military voice that ought to have seemed comical from such a tiny person but was just as full of authority as it had been before. "Are you avoiding medical care again Stark?" he asked, looking past Bruce to Tony and raising an eyebrow. 

"Ah, no… My phone is ringing," Tony said, hands flailing until he found his phone, very clearly NOT ringing. He held it up to his ear, said "Hi Pepper, oh yes that product demo is definitely now!" and all but ran off in the direction of the elevators. 

"Stevie, leave Junior alone," Bucky said to Steve's continued look of indignation (he found that look adorable on that face though he tried hard not to think so). "This kid I knew when I was coming up, he'd do almost anything to avoid doctors. Don't get on Stark's case, he's got a back up doctor that isn't another eleven year old with a bottle of water and a penknife." 

"Bucky! You jerk! You said you'd never tell!"   
"Stevie, I promised I would never tell your Ma. And I never did. Punk." Bucky smiled at Steve then. G-d he really did love him. 

A few more tests later (mostly lung-related) and Bruce had done everything he felt both qualified to do and he thought was sensible and warranted given Steve's medical history - he'd looked for all the conditions Steve was known to have had in the 30's, conditions he was likely to have had but not been diagnosed with and side effects of the shock of suddenly changing so dramatically. 

"We're going to be a few hours till we can analyse and interpret your blood tests etc and I can't rule out needing more samples but I can give you a basic gloss of your health if you'd like, Steve?" Bruce asked, rubbing his hand absently through his dark curls of hair. 

"Yeah," Steve replied, trying unsuccessfully to smile. 

"It’s good news, Steve,” Bruce told him, “I’ve ordered several more tests for your heart, entirely based on your history, it sounds fine today, you almost certainly have anemia but the blood tests will tell us more and you have mild to moderate asthma. Essentially, you’re fine. Everything I’ve found so far can be easily treated or managed. You’re not dying and you’re actually pretty healthy.”

“Don’t feel especially healthy,” Steve moped, “I’m dizzy and tired and crooked and pale and.. and..”

“And gorgeous,” Bucky interrupted, “You look like the mouthy punk I fell in love with. Soft skin and hard angles and lit from the inside with an unquenchable fire. Sure, you ain’t gonna run any 4 minute miles but running’s frankly overrated Stevie.”

Steve, literally dumbfounded, opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Bruce used this as an opportunity to cut in.  
“Steve, as the world’s only known expert on how sudden rapid changes in size effect the human body and mind, believe me when I tell you the dizziness, tiredness and irritability are temporary side effects. I know you’re nauseous but you need to eat more. Here, take these.”   
Bruce handed Steve three things he’d gathered from his medical bag - a bottle of sports rehydration drink, some over the counter painkillers and… a lollipop. He shrugged at Bucky’s amused smirk. “Hulk likes sugar,” he said.  
Bucky held up his hands. “I didn’t say anything Doc!”

A few hours and doctors later, a still taciturn Steve and an increasingly worried Bucky called a team meeting to share what they’d be able to find out. Bucky’s worry increased further when Steve walked past his usual seat at the head of the meeting table and waved a listless hand to indicate that he wanted Bucky to take the seat and the control of the meeting.  
Okay, Bucky thought, Stevie’s having a real bad day so I’ll do this for him but we are going to Talk about this later.

“What we’ve gathered so far strongly suggests that Steve’s body has essentially reverted to his pre-serum state,” Bucky said to their gathered team mates. “So, asthma, congenital heart defect and anaemia - he’ll need those monitoring but that’s all treatable these days. The limp is because his spine is twisted, don’t worry about that. Erm, what else?” Bucky thumbed through the papers in the file he and Bruce had collated from all the doctors’ reports. “Oh, yeah! He needs glasses and a hearing-aid. And he’s not going to be super-strong any more or olympic athlete strong but above average strength might still be possible…”

“You forgot the constant respiratory diseases, the crushing tiredness, the heart palpitations…” Steve said, literally counting things off on his fingers.

“Steve, didn’t you listen to the doctors? Those are unlikely to happen again as long as you stay warm, get enough to eat and have access to decent health care.”

“...Stomach ulcers, fainting spells…” Steve continued as though Bucky hadn’t spoken.

“We keep you out of the stress of constant poverty and you’ll likely avoid that.”

“... Hip, knee and back pain from the limp and the flat feet…”

“Okay, Steve, that might still happen but we can get you physio and supportive shoes and…”

“Nervous trouble,” Steve ended his recitations, sounding oddly triumphant.

Bucky put his hand over his face. Steve was so fucking stubborn and it was apparent that he’d chosen “I am very ill and sad forever” as his hill to die on. Fucking little punk.

“Erm, Steve?” piped up Bruce, ending the tense silence, “I’m fairly sure that they used to diagnose draftees and soldiers with ‘nervous trouble’ as a polite way to say, erm, ‘homosexual.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the encouragement in the comments! This fic is looking to be a few chapters longer than I planned so expect at least 3 more chapters after this.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve needs so much therapy
> 
> Note: minor changes to correct a continuity error! Steve and Bucky were together before he was CA

Bruce's comment had the unexpected outcome of making a previously sulky Steve Rogers burst out into hysterical laughter. 

"Well, they were right about that!" Steve choked out around his giggles, "The serum didn't do fucking anything to change that." 

He hit the table with his hand, pressed the other hand to his chest as he laughed. After a minute, Bucky pushed the inhaler in front of him and glared at him until he took a dose. 

"Okay so, Steve's gay…" Tony started to say. 

"Bisexual," Steve and Bucky corrected simultaneously. 

"Right, bisexual," Tony said, "And right now he's short and stuff but physically if we needed him to he could still fight?" 

Bruce said, "It's likely, yes" at the same time as Bucky said, "Pretty much" and Steve said "Wait, what? No!" 

Bucky rolled his eyes skyward as if asking G-d why They had given him Steve Rogers as a partner. "Steve," he said, "Sweetheart, I know you're half-deaf until we fit you up with a hearing aid but did you genuinely just not listen to everything that all the doctors we've schlepped you in front of today actually said?" 

“If you wanted to,” Bruce began carefully, “You could be fit enough to fight again within months, Steve. Whether or not this wears off and whether or not we can undo it. Nothing that’s happened means you’d have to stop being Captain America.”

“Within a couple of months of treatment and training, you’d be just as fit as me an’ Nat,” said Clint who was absently chewing on the tip of a broken arrow. The rest of the team nodded at his words.

“And that treatment is mostly dietary supplements, physiotherapy and regular check ups,” Bruce added, “No surgeries, no inpatient hospital stays.”

Steve stared at his teammates, his eyes rapidly flitting from face to face. He threw his hands up, sighed and then covered his face with his hands. 

“You don’t understand,” he said in a strained voice. Bucky knew he was close to tears.

Bucky made a decision. “Guys, please give me and Steve the room,” he said.

Once the rest of the team had filed out, Bucky let out a breath he hadn’t even noticed he was holding. He got up and moved to kneel on the floor beside Steve’s chair, putting a hand on Steve’s knee and the other gently stroking Steve’s hair. He could hear Steve crying quietly and he let him cry for a minute then said, “Steve, talk to me sweetheart. Do you want to stop fighting? If you want to stop, I’ll support you.”

“No!” Steve said sharply, “I want to fight.. I love being Captain America but… but…”

“But what Steve?”

“...How can I be Captain America if I’m _like THIS_?” 

Steve gulped like he was finding it hard to breathe through his sobs.

“Like what, Steve?” Bucky asked quietly. Steve just flailed his arms up and down to indicate his entire body. Bucky waited for an answer for a while then asked again. “Like what?”

“Like a 4F weakling! Like an invalid! Like a cripple who literally can’t stand up for himself!” Steve cried, “Like a twisted, crooked, hobbling, defect…”

“STEVE!” Bucky said sharply. Then more gently, “Steve, stop. Babe, I ain’t heard most of those words outside of the 30s and you sure as hell wouldn’t let people get away with calling you that back then.” 

(He’d actually heard them a lot at HYDRA, Nazis and their ilk hate disabled people and anyone they consider weak).

“Steve, I know you’re upset but please try not to talk about all your friends like that,” Bucky said. Steve looked confused and defensive and Bucky continued, “I’m a 4F Steve. So’s Clint, Natasha, Junior, Bruce… Fury himself. Half of the remaining SHIELD agents are disabled, Steve. Heck, Pepper, Hill, Junior’s driver guy, Coulson… Do you think they’re defective invalids too? Do you think I am?”

“No.. But.. Of course not!” Steve said, “Fuck. You’re all great and I wouldn’t say any of those things…”

“But you would about yourself?”  
“Lay offa me, Buck. You ain’t my therapist!”

“Nah, Stevie, but I am your husband,” Bucky said with a quiet sad smile, “Talk to me.”

“It’s just…” Steve began, “None o’ you are Captain America. I mean, I’m a symbol, a hero and I can’t be… weak. I can’t have people look at me and pity me…” He paused. “I can’t have you pity me, Buck. If we can’t change this, if this is how I am now… I can’t cope if you don’t, if you don’t want…”

“Steve,” Bucky said, chewing his lip and shaking his head slightly, “My darling idiot. I LOVE you, you dumb punk.” He takes a deep breath and bundles Steve into his arms and hugs him tight. “I didn’t fall in love with a symbol or a hero or Captain America. I fell in love with my best friend Stevie Rogers, a firespark of righteous anger and endless determination packed into a tiny punk kid. I’ve been in love with you since you were 14. I love you like this and I love you big and you don’t need to worry about what _I_ might prefer because I want _you_ and that ain’t gonna change.”

“Oh,” said Steve and he shifted to stare into Bucky’s eyes, “I thought…Because we were more, er, active after the serum.. I thought.. I thought you wanted… "

" You’re an idiot sweetie,” Bucky told him, “I was making up for all the times we could have been fucking but you weren't well enough. 

I had so many dreams and fantasies about you years before you got your patriotic growth spurt.”

Steve’s face turned red and he buried it into Bucky’s shoulder. “You did?” he whispered into Bucky’s ear.

“I **do.** ”

“Fuck. Wow. Okay,” Steve mumbled into Bucky’s shoulder.  
  
“I can provide you with a practical demonstration later,” Bucky said smirking, “But right now I need to talk to you. Because we both know you don’t actually have a therapist and you need someone to listen to you.” He pulled back and rearranged them so he and Steve could see each other’s faces. “Steve, forget for a minute about what you think America or the world or the team might want, what do you, Steve Rogers, want?”

“Buck, I can’t just… not consider those things!” Steve blurted out, “I can’t… I don’t **get** to just be Steve Rogers, Buck. I’m a superhero… I can’t stop, I can’t…” Steve was crying again, trying desperately to explain to Bucky how obligated he felt to the entire world.

“Babe, you’re just one guy. You’re allowed to just be Steve. Just… try for me, okay?” Bucky chose his words very carefully, “If you could choose now, what do you want Steve?”

“I’m scared,” Steve admitted, “If I say it… Say what I want then I’ll cause it not to happen.” That last part was a whisper. Steve looked emotionally exhausted.

“Okay Stevie,” Bucky said gently, “It’s okay. I know you didn’t really like being big.”

Steve drew in a sharp breath.

“It wasn’t obvious but I saw it. I get it. Now, we’re going to get you some more food soon but here’s my plan, okay?”

He waited for Steve to nod. “If this change is permanent, we can get you physio and training and you can still be a superhero if that’s what you want. Or you can retire and go back to Art school.

If it’s not permanent, we’ll get Junior to replicate it and work with the doctors in the tower to find a way to use it to keep you small. Okay? Whatever happens, we’re getting Nat, Bruce and Junior to recommend you some therapists who are good with traumatic experiences that caused major bodily changes.  
For right now, we’re going back to our floor and we’re ordering you junk food now we know you’re not allergic to anything.”

An hour, several pizzas and some peanut butter ice cream later, Steve had somewhat calmed down. He’s insisting on doing the washing up in the kitchen (“I can do it, Buck! I’m not infirm”) when it happened.

The pizza cutter was soapy and Steve wasn’t paying attention and it tumbled from his grip. Steve’s instincts and stubbornness kicked in and he immediately reached out to catch the falling utensil. He fumbled the catch, managing to grasp it hard briefly - closing his hand right around the blade - and immediately dropping it with a yelp of pain. 

Blood welled up from the long gash across Steve’s palm and Bucky sprang into action, pulling Steve’s hand under the cold water on the sink and then instructing him to stay put while he found the first aid kit.

It didn’t take long to get the kitchen first aid kit (they had a lot of first aid kits throughout the flat) and get open some clean gauze and antiseptic… but when Steve presented his hand to Bucky mere minutes after cutting it open there was no wound. Not even a scar.  
  
“I did not see that coming,” said Bucky, “Fuck. JARVIS, can you maybe get Stark Junior up here? Science needs to happen."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is LOONG and contains a lot of FEELINGS and a fair amount of explicit sex
> 
> Just the epilogue after this.

After a lot of sciencing that mostly goes over Bucky's head, the conclusion seems to boil down to "the thing we tend to call 'the serum' had multiple different components and it seems AIM figured out how to reverse only one of them". 

"So, it's like Steve's body has a template for what it thinks Steve should look like," Stark Junior told them, "And some component or process of Steve's original transformation gave his body a new bigger musclier template and another part gave him the accelerated healing - which is essentially just fast tissue growth and bam! It "heals" itself until it reaches the new template size. 

I mean, that's not how it works at all because cells and bodies don't think but I figured a code based analogy wouldn't help."

"Thanks Tony," Steve said archly. 

"It's like elastic Stevie," Bucky added, "You can stretch an elastic band into a bigger band but you let go and it returns to the original size and shape. The thing keeping you pulled into a different shape got taken away and you snapped back."

"Thanks Bucky. That's a good way to look at it," Steve said. "And the still healing part?" 

"They aren't sure on the details but they reckon that was caused by a different part of the experimental drugs-and-radiation cocktail you signed your punk ass up for the second I wasn't around to keep you outta trouble." Bucky shoved Steve lightly on the shoulder and Steve rolled his eyes at the familiar old argument. 

"So, what now?" Tony asked. "I've managed to replicate what AIM made but making something to undo it could take months. Natasha and Hill have rounded up all the AIM scientists and their research and JARVIS is hacking and analysing as we speak but… whether this is permanent or not we need a plan that assumes you'll be short and asthmatic for the foreseeable short term. 

And more importantly, we need a media strategy. Your fans start developing conspiracy theories if you stay out of sight for longer than about a week. Especially since some video footage from earlier landed on the web."

Bucky raised an eyebrow at that. 

"There's nothing clear in the footage but someone yelling at Cap to lookout followed immediately by my Stark drones turning off non-emergency phone and WiFi access and ending the video is kinda indicative. There's already a #WhereIsCaptainAmerica hashtag but it's not viral yet."

"Tony, it's honestly terrifying that you can even do that," Steve sighed, "I guess it's probably legal but the civil rights implications alone… You're verging close to being a supervillian again."

Bucky ignored Tony's indignant reaction and got straight to the point, "JARVIS, can you set up a meeting between me, Steve, Pepper and Hill to discuss our response to the video and ongoing public image management for Steve for tomorrow morning?" 

"Certainly, sir," came the reply from the ceiling. 

"Steve needs to rest and catch his breath after everything that's happened," Bucky said to Tony, "Can you update the rest of the team for us Junior? Good, thanks bye." He walked Junior to and through the door to their apartment as he spoke, closing and locking the door before Tony could respond. 

Standing with his back to the door, Bucky took a minute to breathe. His focus on looking after Steve on this bizarre and endless day had kept him from thinking about himself. He mentally felt around his body, scanning for injuries and deficiencies. He was thirsty but otherwise physically within his standard parameters. He checked his emotional status - a little stressed, concerned about Steve and… Relieved? Huh. Relieved that Steve was alive and uninjured, sure, but also relieved that the body image and therapy conversation had begun, that he would be able to stop worrying about how to start it. He was also, underneath all the stress, happy. 

Happy to see tiny punk Stevie again. He'd been honest with Steve, he wasn't going to love him less or more based on what he looked like - but he found a part of himself relax just from looking at the Steve he had now, a near copy of the one he'd left behind all those years ago. A painful tight grasp of nostalgia for a man he'd never expected to see again had relaxed and released, a tension he'd been carrying in his body for so long that he could physically feel his muscles let go of it as he breathed out. 

Steve himself then wandered through to see where Bucky had gone and Bucky felt his breath catch in his throat. Steve was so damn gorgeous, barefoot and wearing casual shorts and a tshirt slightly too big for his willowy form. His mussed straw-coloured hair caught the light like a gold halo around his head and Bucky felt his heart nearly burst with love. Steve was smiling and it was the best thing he'd ever seen. 

"Should I be making Tony write "I must not disregard human rights just so I can make shiny tech. I am not allowed to become a villain." five hundred times again?" Steve asked him. 

"Huh?" 

"Tony. Should I be giving him lines again to slow down his descent into villainy?" Steve clarified. He looked at Bucky and realised that Buck was definitely not thinking about Tony. "Hmm. You look kinda like you did when you asked me to marry you."

"Yes," Bucky said automatically then shook his head and said, "I'd try to propose to you right now, you're so gorgeous."

Steve blushed and started to mumble something self-deprecating but Bucky interrupted. "Stevie, just get over here and kiss me."

Steve closed the distance between them and Bucky pulled him into his arms, kissing his face, his neck and collarbone, pulling him closer by his clothes and grabbing at him desperately until he had lifted Steve right off his feet, holding him up with Steve's thighs gripped in his hands. Steve got over his surprise quickly and kissed Bucky eagerly, running his fingers through Bucky's hair and caressing his face. 

"Bed?" Steve whispered in Bucky's ear while clumsily trying to unbutton Bucky's shirt onehanded. 

"Fuck yes," Bucky growled. He carried Steve the whole way, stopping frequently when the kissing got intense. Somewhere in the kitchen, he'd shifted Steve to his metal arm and used the other to divest them both of their shirts. He wasn't sure if the clothing survived intact and he was very sure he didn't care. 

When they got to the bedroom, Bucky threw Steve onto the bed and only stayed standing long enough to pull Steve's shorts off before falling onto their bed to get his arms back around Steve. They rolled around kissing and clutching each other breathlessly, the only pause was to get Bucky’s pants off too. 

Steve scratched his fingers down Bucky’s back so Bucky retaliated by pinning Steve to the mattress and biting licking sucking slowly and thoroughly from the edge of Steve’s jawbone down his neck to his nipple. He left a trail of bite marks like a stamp of ownership. His man. His husband. _His Steve._

Bucky looked up at Steve’s flushed face. “Want me to keep going babe?” he asked while very aware of Steve’s cock pressing into him as the lay over Steve holding him down with his body weight. “Cos I can call it a night if you’re too tired?”

“Don’t stop,” Steve gasped, “Buck, please… I want your mouth on my cock so bad…”

“All in good time babe,” Bucky said wickedly, “I’m going to get you so desperate for it first.”

“ ‘m desperate _now_ Buck,” Steve whined. He looked at Buck and pouted impetuously and Bucky knew exactly how to get that look off Steve’s face.

“Oh sweetie, you’re not nearly desperate enough yet,” he said, lifting one arm to caress Steve’s face. 

Steve's s literally begging him 20 decadent minutes later when Buck finally got to his cock. He took his time with it, bringing Steve close and then backing off to kiss him and grope him instead over and over before finally taking Steve’s cock as far into his mouth as he he can, Steve’s legs dangling over the back of his shoulders, Steve’s hand gripping tight;y to his metal hand and his other hand working Steve’s ass. Steve squeezed his hand twice in quick succession to let him know he’s ready and Bucky added another lubed-up finger and aimed directly for Steve’s prostate until he came in Bucky’s mouth. This was one of Bucky’s favourite ways to get Steve off and the sheer exhilarating indulgence of getting Steve so, so wound up for him and then pushing him over and beyond the edge had Bucky near to cumming untouched himself whenever they do this.

Steve lay loose and boneless beside him when Bucky climbed up the bed to lay next to him. He kissed Bucky sloppily and enthusiastically and babbled about how much he loves Bucky and Bucky’s mouth and kissing and sex and Bucky… Steve’s always kind of floaty after an intense orgasm like this one. Bucky loved being able to do this to him. He put an arm around Steve and pulled him to lay his head on his chest. He stroked Steve's hair and kissed his head. Steve wrapped his arms and legs around him loosely and gracelessly, soaking up as much skin contact as his sex-addled brain could work out how to get. Bucky held him and gently stroked his skin, telling him with his touch how loved and safe and wanted he is. 

Steve himself was very clearly getting sleepy, nuzzling into Bucky's chest contentedly. "Wait, Buck…" he said suddenly, trying to wake himself up, "Watabout you babe, I should…" 

"It's okay Stevie," Bucky said, "I wanted to focus on you tonight sweetheart. You can get me off tomorrow, okay?" 

"'kay Buck. Love you," Steve said and ten minutes later he was fast asleep. 

The next morning, Bucky woke to the smell of coffee wafting from a mug Steve placed on his bedside table. Black and brewed strong plus a lot more sugar than was really necessary - exactly how Bucky would usually make his pre-breakfast coffee. He could hear Steve singing to himself in the kitchen and the sizzle of oil in a frying pan. Stevie’s making him breakfast, he must be feeling better.

Bucky slid himself out of the bed and searched the floor for his clothes before remembering that his clothes were likely both strewn across half the flat and ripped beyond mending after last night. He slipped on a set of pyjamas that had been Steve’s but would now better fit on him. It wasn’t cold but he pulled on a blue silk dressing gown over the pyjamas just for the feeling of the silk on his skin. After drinking his coffee and brushing his hair into something closer to a neat ponytail than a birds-nest after a storm, he wandered through the apartment to the kitchen. He paused halfway just to stare at Steve - they’d not had the time or thought to order him any nightwear so Steve had apparently decided to cook in his new boxers plus an older tshirt he’d tied up at the waist the way girls sometimes did in summer. 

Steve was scrambling eggs in one pan, another pan of recently fried mushrooms was keeping warm on a low burner, sourdough slices filled the toaster and two places were already set at the breakfast bar with a carafe of more hot, sweet black coffee.

Bucky felt like the luckiest damn guy in the universe. 

“Hey Buck!” Steve called happily over his shoulder as he reached over to push down the lever of the toaster. “You sit down babe, I let you do all the work last night” Steve blushed and added, “Let me treat you to a good breakfast.”  
“I’m not gonna argue with you when you’re cookin’ Stevie,” Bucky said goodnaturedly and went to do as he was told.

As they were finishing up breakfast (garlic mushrooms, scrambled eggs and feta cheese on toast, four slices each plus tea, coffee and fruit), Steve suddenly looked lost and unsure. He was standing in the kitchen, looking quizzically between a newly cleaned frying pan and the shelf of their fridge that was almost entirely just eggs. If today had been a normal day, he’d be making a six egg omelette as a post-breakfast protein boost. But it wasn’t a normal day and none of the rules and routines he’d learned to manage his serum-enhanced body applied any more.

Bucky saw his confusion and internally chided himself for not foreseeing it. To Steve he said, “Let’s get you dressed first Steve. And if you’re hungry after we can make you a normal sized omelette, okay?”

It turned out that Steve wasn’t hungry enough for an omelette after all. Bucky added some oatmeal cookies and a premixed chocolate protein shake to his pockets before they left for their meeting just in case.

Tony had apparently decided to crash their meeting with Pepper and Hill. As had Natasha. Bucky glared toward the ceiling and said, “Barton, get out of the vent and stop pretending you’re not there eavesdropping.”

Sure enough, Clint was soon sitting cross-legged on the floor in the corner of Pepper’s office continuing to play at indifference by quietly fletching some arrows and putting any offcuts from the feathers into Pepper’s wastepaper basket.

“Anyone else want to intrude on the very small meeting I had planned?” Bucky said, scowling dramatically to hide his amusement.

“I’m surprised it’s only three extras,” Pepper said with the air of someone who has long ago given up on keeping Tony Stark, Natasha Romanova or anyone else there out of any room in the tower they wanted in on (except Steve who regarded doors and warning signs as something actually worth paying mind to). “I understand Dr Banner is, and I am quoting Tony here, ‘up to some mad science’ right now that prevents him from inviting himself here and Thor is currently off…” She paused and put a hand to her face. “Can someone open the door for him please? He’s broken the last three.”

Steve and Bucky turned to see the enormous silhouette of Thor through the frosted glass wall of Pepper’s office and then the man himself as Natasha quickly opened the (also frosted glass) door to allow him in. 

Thor beamed at them all like a husky who has realised “yes here is my pack and the sleigh and we’re all going for a run!” and Bucky wasn’t yet used to having Thor’s we-are-pack expression so clearly meant to include him… He mentally reminded himself that Thor is just gonna be Thor and this is well within normal limits of Thor weirdness. 

“Steven!” Thor boomed, “The Man-of-Iron told me of your transformation!”

Bucky tried not to laugh as Stark very visibly considered reiterating that “Man-of-Iron” was not his name and silently concluded that this wasn’t the time. Bucky’s eyes met Pepper’s and it was so clear that she was also trying desperately not to laugh that they each nearly set the other one off.

“My friend,” Thor continued, looking very seriously at Steve and ignoring everyone else, “You seem… better. More harmonious, more in tune with yourself than I have ever before known. Is this form more in keeping with your inner self?”

Steve stood dumbfounded for an uncomfortably long few seconds then stammered out, “Y-yyes. Yes it is.”

Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand to indicate how proud he was that Steve had managed to say that aloud.

“So,” said Pepper brightly, “I can get rid of folder A then, we won’t be needing that plan.” She picked one of the twelve or so folders off her desk, pulled a stamp from the drawer and very neatly stamped the folder with the words “TO BE SHREDDED UNOPENED” in bright red ink and then passed it to Hill who put it into a black faux leather briefcase. She then turned to Steve and Bucky and said warmly, “Steve, James, please take a seat and we’ll get this started, shall we?” She pointed a perfectly manicured gold-nailpolished finger at Tony and then at a stool in the corner across from the corner where Clint was still pretending not to be interested. Natasha sat delicately on one end of Pepper’s desk - a habit she’d kept over from her time as Pepper’s assistant. Hill stood behind and to the right of Pepper - prepared for anything that might need her to run or shoot someone. Thor stood too but more because he had been required for some time to avoid sitting on or otherwise touching any of Pepper’s furniture - the replacement costs had become excessive.

“Steve,” Pepper began, “Am I correct in saying that staying your original size is something you would prefer?”

“That’s right,” Steve said to the table, “I know it’s not ideal for the team and…”

“Nonsense Rogers,” Natasha interjected, “What’s best for you IS what’s best for the team. And even if it weren’t, you deserve to be happy. You, Barnes and I might have been made into human weapons but we are human first, Steve.”

  
“But I did it willingly!” Steve said, “And I’d do it again if I felt I had to.”

“That’s just it babe,” Bucky said, pulling Steve into a hug, “You don’t have to do it again. You get to choose again now and you can choose to do something different. Willingly.”

He held Steve to his chest for a second then let him up. “Steve, nobody in this room is gonna judge you if you decide you’d rather be happy than superstrong. Pepper and co have spent hours prepping plans for just what to do if you want this. And if you decide you’d rather be big and strong again than comfortable in your own skin, the only person here who’d judge you for that is me _and I’d get the hell over it_. You get to choose and we’re all here to support you.”

“Just on the science here for a sec,” said Tony who’d scooted over on his stool that apparently had wheels, “We don’t yet know if this change is y’know, _permanent._ I’m still really not sure how it works or if this is even what they meant for it to do. 

BUUUT if it’s not permanent and Capiscle here wants to stay ittybitty then I’m happy to report that we figured out how to make more of it. So, theoretically, I mean I’m not a doctor not a medicine doctor anyway erm… yeah, we could probably safely just keep giving him more every time he started getting a growth spurt.”

Pepper waved Tony back into his corner. “The idea that this might wear off gave me a good idea of how to present this to the public, Steve,” she said, looking directly and calmly at him, “We honestly don’t know if the original supersoldier serum was meant to be a single dose lasts a lifetime or whether you were supposed to have further doses. We don’t even know if the effects were meant to last until after the war. We can very easily spin this as an evitable consequence of your age. We just release a statement indicating that whichever part of the serum gave you superhuman strength has been used up by your body and now you’re the size and strength you were before the war. I know that’s technically not true but it _sounds_ true, Steve. People would believe it and leave you alone about the hows and whys.”   
  


“But surely the AIM scientists will tell people they did this to me?”

“We already seed the various Avengers conspiracy sites with things that mostly aren’t true,” said Hill, “SHEILD has people with long-standing, somewhat-trusted accounts on those websites and it’ll be very easy to have them start rumours that various groups intentionally did this to you. We can make it seem too ridiculous for the mainstream press to believe anyone trying to leak a truth the conspiracy nuts who believe Nick Fury is a cyborg already believe.”

Seeing that Steve is having a minor moral breakdown over the idea of telling such a huge lie, Bucky turns Steve’s head towards him and says, “Stevie, I know you hate lying and spycraft and alla this. You know that Natasha and I are with you on that but… Say we tell the actual truth? What happens then? Then people who aren’t in this tower start trying to make more o’ this stuff, start trying to work backwards from it to figure out how to make supersoldiers, start the whole super-person arms race up again. They could try that stuff on me or Bruce or Nat and we don’t know what that’d do…

I know lying is bad and you hate it but pikuach nefesh, Stevie. We gotta lie cos it’ll save lives. It’ll save _you._ ” He wanted to say “I can’t lose you again” but he daren’t give voice to that fear. He thought Steve could see it in his eyes anyway. He closed his betraying eyes and kissed Steve’s face. “I love you,” he whispered into Steve’s skin, close to his good ear. The touch of cheek to cheek to get close enough to whisper let loose a sense memory that transported him directly to 1940, saying those words so quietly for fear of the neighbours discovering their illegal love.

“Okay,” Steve said quietly to Bucky and then louder to Pepper, “Okay. How are we going to do this?”

* * *

The following week, it's clear that the media is largely taking their story as true. Fox News has called for Steve to step down as an Avenger but they did that when Steve came out, when he married Bucky and when they worked out that Steve had converted to Judaism (which actually had nothing to do with Bucky, Steve had been talking to a Rabbi within a couple of months of being defrosted). The conspiracy sites were split on whether Steve had shrunk (and exactly who had done it to him) or he'd actually died and been replaced with an actor or a clone (and who exactly arranged that). "Steve Rogers' performance enhancing drug cocktail finally wore off" sounded a lot simpler than any other theory and thus the most believable. Or the least troublesome thing to believe. 

Steve continued to exercise in public and a lot of winded / tired / asthmatic photographs were taken by the paparazzi. His Captain America shield design hearing aid went viral among disabled people on twitter and then trended on twitter enough that Tony saw it, sulked and announced that Stark Industries would soon be producing Iron Man hearing aids and "other cool disability tech". Pepper made him buy her some very expensive clothes and shoes for forgetting that she runs SI, not him. 

Tiny Steve was apparently extremely hot to a small but significant portion of the internet and Bucky took to keeping an arm or hand on Steve when they were out. Let the paparazzi and the fans and the whole damn world know it, he thought, Steve is MINE. 

He came back to their apartment carrying coffees maybe a week and a half since Steve became small and he spotted Steve sketching. His heart skipped when he saw what Steve had as an image reference - photos of himself. For the first time in this century, his sweet baby artist Steve was doing a self portrait. 

Bucky wanted to jump for joy or weep with relief or stand totally still and silent as though Steve were a wild deer grazing in the moonlight and a single movement might spook him and break the spell. His body seemed confused about what to do so he actually nearly tripped over his own feet on the way to put the coffees down across from Steve. Steve didn't notice, just mumbled something approximating "Thanks Bucky" and waved at him to get out of his light. 

Bucky sat down across from Steve, just watching and marvelling for a minute. Tears welled in his eyes and he scrubbed them away on his sleeve. He pulled his yarmulke from one of his many, many pockets and put it on his head. He quietly said the Shehecheyanu blessing. Steve surprised him by answering "amen". Then they both went back to pretending that this wasn't a momentous and miraculous occasion. Steve drawing, Bucky reading and both drinking their coffees, they both silently thanked everyone and everything that had kept them alive and brought them to a day when they could sit together with Steve finally comfortable enough to sketch out a picture of himself. 

"I'm so proud of you Stevie," Bucky whispered into Steve's good ear as they lay in bed that night. 

"Yeah, Buck?" Steve asked. 

"Yeah," Bucky said, kissing Steve gently. 

A few minutes later, Steve said quietly, "I'm proud of me too." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to come back and post explanations of the jewish terms later


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve punches nazis in this chapter and he also dresses really femme.   
> If you don't want to read about Nazis skip from "I'm suiting up" to "He yelled at".  
> If you don't want Femme Steve, pretend there's no epilogue because Steve's gender feels are all over this chapter.

**3 months later**

Steve's phone beeped in the middle of a life drawing class. Two beeps then silence - a five minute warning of an incoming call, urgent enough to need him to answer but not so urgent that he has to respond immediately (that's one beep, ten second warning before a call). Steve made eye contact with the tutor and she nodded at him. Stepping back from his easel, Steve packed away his charcoals, washed his hands and arms and walked over to the unassuming black briefcase at the back of the room. He mouthed a silent apology to the model, saluted jauntily at his classmates and left the room. 

He walked to what appeared to be a supply closet, turned the handle and let himself in. The room contained a chair and he sat down to set up his headset in time for his unexpected phone call. 

Opening the briefcase with a press of his palm print on the hidden scanner, he retrieved a slim black laptop and opened it in the same way. The handle on the door into the unassuming room and the handle on his briefcase were also fingerprint activated, no one but Steve could so much as lift the briefcase that contained his Avengers laptop and new Captain America suit. His shield, his goggles and his mask were stored in bags and boxes in the room and all went with him wherever he went - including to art school and back most weekdays. 

"What have we got?" Steve said as soon as the call started. 

"We have a bit of a situation, Cap," said Hawkeye, "Not a huge situation but, ah, Iron Man and I got a bit captured and tied up? And that's totally on me, turns out a few of my old, erm, associates are still holding a grudge against me for accidentally stealing their dog… Anyway, we're FINE and we have everything under control and such but we're supposed to be dealing with the situation in Central Park and could you.."

"What's happening in the park?" Steve asked, zeroing in on the most salient information. 

"Neonazis," Clint answered, spitting the word out like a curse, "Neonazis with hostages - they've taken a bus load of disabled kids hostage and are spouting eugenics bullshit."

"I'm suiting up," Steve answered, "Join me when you can. Widow available?" 

"Gonna call her next," Clint said over the noise of Tony babbling about Houdini and lockpicking in the background. "Hawkeye out." 

Steve changed quickly, pulling on the new suit and affixing first his air-filtration mask and then his helmet with integrated comms, camera and prescription eye goggles. He put his clothes and glasses into the briefcase, grabbed his gauntlets and shield and pressed a button on the wall that summons the car that follows him everywhere ready to take him to the action fast if he's needed. He can't just run there any more (and when they'd tried him out flying like Tony or like Sam it… Hadn't gone well) so a very fast car driven very creatively was the solution they'd found. 

"Hey Bucky," he said into his phone, "Can you tell the jewellers I'm gonna be late? Yes, again. Sorry babe, Tony and Clint are tied up and there's some Nazis needing punching." 

Missing the test fitting for his new wedding ring - again! - was frustrating as was missing half of his life drawing class but Steve felt like he'd been _born_ with his fists curled ready to punch the nearest Nazi and beating fascism was his main purpose in life so… He could let his feelings go for now and focus on the job. See a Nazi, do whatever it takes to bring him the fuck down. 

Shield in hand but no weapons yet drawn, Steve walked casually towards the group of heavily armed men with fascist tattoos and clothing and hairstyles cribbed directly from war films. Every one of the twelve or so men were White while the terrified disabled kids they were penning in between them were much more representative of New York's diversity. The neonazis (no matter what they called themselves, they were clearly Nazis) had brought a couple of heavily armoured 4 by 4s, more guns and ammunition than an entire trench got in Steve's day and banners proclaiming White supremacy, calls for killing disabled people and further banners against every kind of person except for White Protestant heterosexual Christian men. 

Steve smiled grimly to himself behind his mask, he was going to enjoy being the gay disabled Jew putting these guys down. 

"Hello gentleman," he said loudly and clearly, "It looks like you and I are going to have a disagreement."

Despite his small size and his lack of super-strength, it was not a difficult fight for Steve. Twelve against one but twelve big guys with no real training in weapons or hand-to-hand combat against one very, very adept fighter with a shield, a couple of guns, metal gloves designed by Tony Stark and a telescopic baton (which doubles as a cane)? It's a fair fight. 

"Hey Captain Homo," was how the tallest of the Nazis started the brawl, "That get up supposed to make you look like a real man again?" 

"Nope," Steve replied, "It's mostly for keeping my make up from getting smudged."

The guy laughed harshly and ran at Steve attempting to knock him down. Steve waited for him to get close and then grabbed him and used his momentum to swing him round and slam him into the ground. 

The other guys were a bit more work as they actually thought to try using their guns as well as their fists but Steve knew how to fight with bigger, over-confident bullies - ducking, weaving and aiming to knock them out with the shield or shoot them in the shoulder or the leg to incapacitate them. Being conscious of the child captives, he mostly avoided shooting and focused on drawing the fight away from the kids. Once he'd drawn more than half of the nazis out into an all out brawl, the teacher and the bus driver started ferrying the kids away, first hiding behind one of the armoured cars and then taking one kid at a time away into the watching crowd. 

When Steve had knocked out or incapacitated all the neonazis, the police came out to arrest them and Steve gave them his statement and a thorough telling off for not doing their job. 

He yelled at a bunch of the assembled journalists and made them delete or anonymise any photos or videos they'd taken that showed the children. He warned them that anyone who so much as attempted to interview any of the kids would get "a lot more than just a talking to" from him, from his husband and from his lawyers. That being understood, he allowed them to interview him. 

"I stand against fascism," Steve said clearly into a TV news microphone, "No matter what country or century I find it in." He unclipped his mask and cowl, took off his goggles and shook out his hair, "And I would just like to confirm that I wasn't lying when I told that awful man that my new gear helps keep my make up from getting smudged." He smiled and batted his eyelashes, showing off subtle but evident mascara and slightly glittery lipstick. He flicked the baton into a cane, gave the journalists a salute and made his way back to the car.

"I think I might even get to the jeweller's on time," he said to his driver as he texted his husband an ETA and then pressed the privacy button Tony had installed to make the windows even more tinted and raise a screen between him and the driver so he could start changing back into his clothes. 

Bucky was already at the jeweller's. He was sipping a very large coffee and he'd brought a second one with him for Samira the goldsmith as he anticipated a long wait for Steve to arrive - or fail to arrive. He'd expected the brief phone call earlier, Steve's supernatural ability to find trouble to get into was as true to him as gravity. What goes up must come down and Steve Rogers will get himself into any trouble within a five mile radius if left unaccompanied. It's just how the world works.

The text with an ETA that's actually mostly on time came as a surprise but not as surprising as the latest hits on his "JARVIS is Steve in the news again" app. 

He was still staring in befuddlement at the headlines of some of the news stories on his phone when Steve walked in. 

Bucky looked Steve up and down because damn he's always stunned when he remembers that he gets to keep this, he gets to be with his favourite person and that person is so so gorgeous. Steve was wearing a long dove grey top with a deep scoop neck paired with extremely skinny black jeans, a darker grey mesh jacket, glittery black combat boots, a silver Star of David pendant and a black denim yarmulke precariously clipped to his lengthening golden hair. 

"Hey Stevie," Bucky said affectionately, "Any idea why I'm getting journos emailing me wanting to know how I feel about your "recently embraced effeminacy"? Like anything about this is remotely recent."

The next day, a bunch of headlines quoted Bucky saying “Steve’s always been a fairy” and “Being really into hitting stuff never stopped Steve being camp and extravagant wherever he feels safe enough. Also, his calf muscles look amazing when he’s in heels. Did when he was taller too.” and “Yeah, I am proud of him. No, I don’t think _Captain America_ needs to be a masculine example for young boys or any other homophobic nonsense some of you are yelling at me. _Captain America has ALWAYS been a gay femme man_ and if you only just noticed that’s more on you for not building a future where he felt safe enough to show you who he is than it is on Steve for never actually being the straight masculine ideal man you imagined him to be.”   
  


A month later, Steve made the cover of Teen Vogue and was interviewed by some LGBTQ teens about growing up queer in Brooklyn then and now.

Steve had the photos and the magazine cover framed for their apartment. He used his favourite as a guide for a self-portrait depicting himself as a fairy with pastel rainbow wings.

The whole hilarious ordeal of Steve’s public embracing of… being himself? and the mostly positive and slightly confused response to it gave Bucky an idea. They’d had to get Steve a new wedding ring because his fingers thinned, why not have a renewal of vows? 

He suggested the idea to Steve one evening over late fall hot chocolates and Steve’s face lit up. 

  
“Hey, Tony?” Steve asked excitedly into his phone, “Can you get me an in with your friend Billy Porter? Yeah, the actor. Hah, no not trying to get a date no, I want his advice on finding someone to make me a _dress_.”


End file.
